My mothers always taught me to take the high road. You don't realize until you're at the peak that you're the one left with so much more room to fall, and be broken into a million little pieces. I taught myself how to put myself back together again.
My grandmother was the first one to ask me where I thought the mountains and oceans came from. I was six. I said the earth. She told me God. I suppose I feel the goddess more than most. So I left. I went and looking for something else.
My spirit always led me to the scenic routes. Rolling open landscapes, peaks higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide, water ponds and lakes made of glass blown stars who cried for their mothers warmth and rained down in an ancient time lost in memory to most. I felt a beauty no man, no man made God could muster. They can only ever try to emulate.
And I've lost myself there. No questions to answer. No questions needed asking. I wander and I'm lost in love with it.
Now my mind is taking the road less traveled by. Sometimes I see the footprints of those before me left in the mud after the rain. Treading lightly to not leave my own and walk alone. I see more mud and bootprints on the faces of the strangers I meet along the way. No need or drive to ask or wonder what road they're on or headed to. Mud and dirt left on them from those who have trampled on them. Blood and tears - their own and from the ones they've pushed down and the ones they've tried to pick up - encrusted around their eyes and and trying smiles. 'Let me take you to the stream so you can wash yourself clean. Take this fruit I don't need, take care of yourself out here in this crazy world we were all chosen to live, like it or not. And if you must take my flowers, pull them from the ground gently, leave just one root and petal so I can grow again after. Try your best replant them where they will help you grow.'
Take them to the mountains so that when they fall the petals rain down on those low valley roads and create a new scene.